


The Call Of A God

by Jackfrostbitten



Series: The Grand (And Incredibly Idiotic) Deities Of Places Unknown and Forbidden [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Spirits, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Betrayal, Childhood Trauma, Coma, Demigod!Tommy, Demigod!Tubbo, Demigods, Demons, Drinking, Drowning, Elemental!George, Elemental!Quackity, Elemental!Sapnap, Elemental!Skeppy, Elementals, Enjoy :DDD, Excessive Drinking, Familiar!Antfrost, Familiars, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Gen, George Is Tired, God!Jschlatt, God!Philza, God!Technoblade, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, King of Hell! BadBoyHalo, Kitsune, Kitsune!Fundy, Loss of Limbs, Loss of Parent(s), Madness, Minecraft, Monsters, Multi, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Queerplatonic Relationships, Realistic Minecraft, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Sapnap is an arsonist, Shapeshifter!Karl, Sleepy Cuddles, Somewhat-Fantasy, Spirit!Eret, Spirit!Jack, Spirit!Niki, Spirit!Wilbur, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The boys are adorable, They're also demigods and traumatized, TommyInnit and Tubbo are kinda brothers, Trauma, Watchers, god!dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackfrostbitten/pseuds/Jackfrostbitten
Summary: "There are bigger sacrifices one might be asked to make than going a little mad."--Mr. Wednesday, American Gods-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Gods are dangerous creatures with great influence over the inner-workings of the universe. They feed on the offerings and belief of humans, of the beings of the forests and mountains, of the animals, of the plants, of every living thing.Tommy and Tubbo didn't know who they were when they met each other. They were rowdy schoolkids hoping to make it big in a life that confused them. Tubbo could speak with bees and turn water into honey. Tommy could burn people by touching them.The Watchers, fallen gods of a place called Hermitcraft, angry with the gods calling themselves the Dreamesempee, are looking for war.A deal.A pair of demi-gods.Grand cosmic power.What could go wrong?
Series: The Grand (And Incredibly Idiotic) Deities Of Places Unknown and Forbidden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164590
Comments: 20
Kudos: 230





	1. Act 1, Part 1: Spring Evenings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end for notes!

**Once** , in a place quite far away, there was a boy. Well, there were _two_ technically, but we won’t hear about the second one for a little while.

Nonetheless, there was a boy. He lived in a village next to a city of destruction and anarchy. A foul-mouthed teenager with a thick accent and boisterous bravado that made him all the more charming. The boy wandered, never knowing where he came from, nor where he was going, but always with a destination in mind.

A new city here, a new village there.

In the end, he’d always return to the city next to his home. Those inside it called it 2b2t. Those outside it called it hell. He’d been there more times than he could count, enjoying the company of the magic users and murderers and dark creatures that sought refuge in the anarchy and chaos.

Adults would look at the boy with pitying glances and staged whispers.

_I heard he doesn’t know his parents._

_How sad, the little boy’s all on his own._

_Where’s he going to go?_

_How is he still alive after all this time? You’d think he’d be dead within a week of leaving!_

The boy pretended he didn’t hear them.

* * *

“Hey, mate! Could you help me out with these boxes?” A man called from across the road.

A blonde-haired man in a green cloak was hefting a large crate into a cart by a worn terracotta house. He didn’t look that old, but was rather obviously struggling with the small crate.

“Oh, sure!” Tommy shouted, running over to pick up the opposite end of the crate and push it into the back of the cart with strength that didn’t match his age.

The man stretched out his back, which cracked with an audible “pop!”, “Thanks a bunch, mate, my old back’s been troubling me lately,” he laughed, a jovial and light noise, “It happens when you get old.”

“You don’t look that old,” Tommy crossed his arms.

The man laughed again, “Looks can be deceiving, I suppose.”

Tommy only snorted, helping the man pick up another crate and heft it into the cart.

“So what’re you doing with all these crates?” He asked.

The blonde shrugged, “I’m moving in with an old friend of mine down in Spiere. He’s a bit of a recluse, so I figured I’d move in with him instead of having him come all the way out here.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, “ _Jeb_ \--Spiere’s a long fuckin’ way from here.”

The man rubbed the back of his neck with an expression between embarrassment and sheepishness, “ _Yeaaaah_ , it’s going to be a while before I actually get there,” He patted the crates, one of which held a number of potion bottles encased in a protective layer of straw, “I just hope everything’ll make it through the journey there.”

Tommy stood on his toes to look inside of the potion crate, the straw tickling his nose, “What’re you doing with all of these potions?”

“I’m planning on selling a couple on my way over to Spiere. Te--my friend is also starting to get low on them, so I’m bringing extra for him.”

The man wiped the sweat off of his brow, grabbing a bucket hat striped with green and white off of the side of the cart and putting it on his head. It was a bit too large for his head, nearly falling over the man’s eyes. He grabbed a bottle from the crate that was filled with a sweet-smelling pink liquid that sloshed around thickly in its container, which he handed to Tommy.

“I have a few more than I need, so if you want to pick out two more from this crate, you can take them,” The man smiled at the boy, whose eyes lit up with curiosity and glee.

“Really?!” He exclaimed with a child-like grin before stopping himself and plastering on a cocky smirk, “I mean, uh, that’s very kind of you, sir.”

The man in the bucket hat laughed, putting a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, “Philza Minecraft, mate, but you can just call me Phil.”

Tommy grinned, getting on his tiptoes to put his own hand on the man’s shoulder, “I’m Theseus, but most people just call me Tommy. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Philza.”

The man, Philza, ruffled Tommy's shaggy blonde hair before returning to the inside of his house to grab a couple more crates. Tommy stared at the potion in his hand, his grin fading as old memories came back to him.

Boffy in Arel-Craft, where he’d make the wildest concoctions and laugh alongside Tommy when he died from the effects and had to respawn. He let Tommy come up with the names for the ones that worked, and even let Tommy help him brew and get ingredients.

A redstonier in 2b2t he nicknamed Montan since the man would never give Tommy his actual name. Montan took pity on him amongst the chaos of the city, his first gift to Tommy being a modified healing potion he used to heal Tommy’s right eye, which had gotten severely damaged in a battle.

He vaguely knew the name Philza Minecraft. It brought an odd sense of familiarity to him.

_Ivory wings. Cities without respawns where you only got one life. A warm, echoing laugh. A comforting smile that told you everything was going to be okay. Tears and blood mixing on a yellow jumper._

Tommy looked around for the man, who was still inside shifting boxes around. Sighing, he focused on the fire in his heart and the memories of the man. 

His hands grew hot, turning faintly red as they heated up, illuminating the liquid inside of the bottle. The potion began to bubble, and Tommy let out a breath, the glow fading from his hands, leaving them icy cold and slightly numb.

The contents of the potion had turned green with an ashy layer of black foam on the top. A poison capable of killing a creature as strong as an enderman with a single drop.

Something told him that he’d be needing it soon.

* * *

Tommy sat near the fire in his makeshift campsite a couple kilometers away from the village, whittling a piece of wood with his old iron dagger.

The night had just barely begun to creep upon the day, turning the sky deep indigo speckled with pale stars and the golden orange light of the dying sunset.

It was going to rain soon, judging by the clouds that began to filter in from the west side of the mountains. They covered up the stars and the moon, casting everything in a muffled white glow. Tommy didn't really want to be around in the rain, but for once, he didn’t have somewhere he needed to be.

Tommy turned over an ashy log in the campfire, watching as glowing embers flew off of it before quickly putting themselves out.

He missed his friends. He missed competing in tournaments. He missed jumping around worlds with Boffy and Deo and Wisp. 

He missed people he never knew.

_A bright, laughing face filled with naive kindness. A bee trailing behind him with a lead wrapped around its small body. A flower crown adorning his chocolate brown locks._

_A man with the voice of a siren’s song. A yellow jumper with bluish blood and translucent hands holding a worn-out guitar. A trenchcoat with a patch of a flag singed and covered in grime and soot sitting on some freshly upturned dirt._

_A piglin with a crown atop their head and a cape flowing behind their back. A crystal with glowing runes that floated above the ground. A skeleton skull that was charred and crumbling. A million different voices screaming and laughing and crying._

_A creeper hybrid standing on four legs, proud and cold, though still caring and kind._

_A sailor with ram’s horns and fluffy white hair, slitted eyes filled with joy and wonder and hope._

Only flashes of memories he never had--or at least, he didn’t remember. Tommy pulled his cloak around him a bit tighter. It was bright red, and short, curling around his waist like a poncho except lined with fur. He had gotten it as a Yuletide gift at 2b2t.

It was old and worn-out now, patches of clothes and quilts keeping holes in the fabric closed. It was covered in mud and feathers and shit; he didn’t bother to wash it off. The wool lining was matted and dirty.

Still, it felt like home.

A yelp of pain and surprise echoed through the forest, causing the fire next to Tommy to abruptly put itself out.

_Fuck_.

* * *

Tommy rushed through the trees, deftly hopping over roots and climbing over foliage with years of experience etched into his bones. He pulled his hood over his head, and his bandana over his mouth.

He didn’t know where he was going, but his feet seemed to as they led him through the forest. That somewhere turned out to be in the middle of a clearing, where Philza and his cart--now lying on its side--were being attacked by an enderman.

It was a gruesomely lanky creature, nearly eight feet tall with a jaw that unhinged itself and fell open, revealing row upon row of sharp black teeth. Its clawed hands swung at the man, who swiftly doged the swipe, unsheathing a diamond sword glowing softly with enchantments.

Philza swung, chopping its arm clean off. It let out a distorted screech of pain and teleported away in a faint purple mist. 

Tommy’s feet pulled him forward as the creature reappeared behind the blonde man, claw raised and ready to strike.

He pulled the poison from his pocket, standing directly in front of the man who had given him it.

...And ran forward, bowling into the creature and slamming the bottle into its chest.

The poison immediately did its work, melting through the flesh of the enderman, whose violet eyes immediately sputtered before going out like a lantern in the wind. Remnants of the broken glass and poison singed Tommy’s skin like hot knives were being dragged across his forearms. He staggered backwards, gritting his teeth in pain as his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.

Strong arms caught him before he fell backwards, kneeling on the ground and turning the boy towards him.

Philza peered at him with a mixture of horror and curiosity--emerald eyes glinting in the faint moonlight. The man shuffled through his pack, pulling out a pack of gauze and some potions in varying shades of red and pink.

“Dear _Jeb,_ kid, you--you’re so _fucking stupid_ , oh _heart_ \--” Philza’s gaze turned tearful, filled with sorrow that left a bitter taste in Tommy’s mouth...or maybe that was the blood.

“Stupid’s gotten me pretty fuckin’ far,” Tommy laughed as pain shot up his arms, yelping as the man pressed a cold cloth to his rapidly deteriorating wound.

The poison had melted the skin on his hands, wrists, and part of his forearm, leaving bloody muscle exposed to the cold spring night. The potion began to dull the pain, knitting the skin back together and stopping the flow of the poison. 

Phil pulled two potions from his bag, one bright magenta with golden flecks swirling around in it and the other a clear liquid that stuck to the sides of the bottle like a thin syrup.

“Drink,” he commanded, handing the potions to Tommy.

The boy peered at Philza for a moment, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out if the man was trying to poison him or not before relenting and downing both potions in one go. Both were incredibly sweet, tasting faintly of melon and lavender.

His eyes drooped and every muscle in his body felt heavy--even sitting upright was a chore when he felt like his head was swimming in molasses. Tommy’s mouth was filled with the taste of lavender and cotton, and he nearly fell forward, if not for Philza’s strong arms keeping him steady.

“You can sleep with me for the night, I’ll keep you safe,” Philza soothed, running a gentle hand through Tommy’s hair.

The older man trembled as he cradled the boy to his chest, picking him up bridal-style.

“Rest, Theseus.”

And Tommy obliged.

* * *

Tommy awoke to a sharp pain in his hands, and the strumming of an old guitar. People were chatting softly, and Tommy barely registered through the drowsy fog clouding his mind that he was lying on a soft bedroll next to something warm and crackly.

_Fire_ , he quickly realized.

Hefting himself upright, the voices immediately stopped chattering as Tommy scooted over to the roaring bonfire. He heard a slight gasp as he stuck his hands directly into the flame, watching as they burned away his bandages. It stung for a moment, though the pain quickly faded as the flames did their work. 

Pulling his hands out of the fire, Tommy quickly checked them over, finding that the skin--although scarred and slightly bruised--now looked good as new. He sighed in relief, leaning forwards as the fire tickled his nose.

“Thanks, I owe ‘ya, Sap,” Tommy muttered into the fire, whose flames spread out to catch his sleeve on fire. 

The fabric didn’t burn, and the flame felt like a comforting hand on his arm. It followed him, helping him carefully stand up. Tommy stretched a moment before turning to his rescuers.

Philza was standing next to a translucent figure with a look even Tommy couldn’t read while the ghost-thing next to him only grinned. It wore a yellow jumper and a grey beanie that covered most of its curly chocolate brown hair, and seemed to be the culprit of the music from earlier as it was holding a worn-out guitar.

“...Uh, hi,” Tommy waved at the pair, and a spark from the fire flew onto his shoe, making him hiss in pain.

The flame curled and grew to push Tommy towards the men, and the blonde boy scowled at the fire which flickered a moment before returning to normal.

“You know the fire elemental?” Philza asked, his confusion edging on curiosity.

“Sapnap?” Tommy tilted his head, “Yeah, I met the bastard when I stole his fish and he burned down some poor person’s lemon tree.”

The fire crackled, flickering up and down in a way that made it look like it was laughing.

“See? I told you he’s a god!” The figure next to Philza exclaimed, gesturing to the boy.

“We _don’t know that_ ,” Philza muttered, scowling at the ghost next to him.

Tommy shared a look with the fire, which flickered in a shrug. 

The ghost abruptly vanished before reappearing in front of a startled Tommy, who had to tilt his head all the way up in order to look the tall stranger in the eyes. The creature laughed giddily, the sound high and musical like the song of a flute, before extending a translucent hand.

“Wilbur Soot, it’s nice to meet you, Theseus,” Wilbur greeted, “You’ve already met my lovely friend over there,” Wilbur gestured to Philza who sighed fondly before waving at Tommy, “And you seem to also already know Sappittus, “ Wilbur gestured to the fire which crackled in acknowledgement.

Tommy ignored Wilbur’s hand, stuffing his hands in his poncho pockets, “I’m not a god, I can tell you that. Avian, yeah; a living ball of chaos and destruction, maybe; but not a _god_.”

Wilbur chuckled, the warm, mischievous grin on his face widening, “An avian, yeah?”  
  


_Well fuck, he said too much._

Tommy’s heart caught in his throat as he backed up, grabbing his dagger from his belt, “Are you hunters?”

Both Philza and Wilbur seemed to recoil at that, sharing a look before turning back to Tommy who was edging towards the treeline, getting ready to run at a moment’s notice.

A black underpart to Philza’s cape spread out behind him, and a wide, translucent shape materialized behind Wilbur’s back.

_Wings._

Philza’s were pristine greyish-black and appeared to be less bird wings and more a thin membrane meant to glide. It had thin, hooked bones on the ends of each side that were incredibly sharp, like tiny daggers. Diamond-like shapes were imprinted in an ivory-coloured part of the membrane, and accented by silver rings that were hooked around the top and undersides of his wings.

What’s more, they were _fucking huge_. They were nearly twice the size of Phil’s own body, making his figure appear all the more imposing.

Wilbur’s wings stretched out like a combination of a dragon’s and a phantom’s. They were mostly translucent, with pale yellow and black scales that faded into mist at the edges.

Wilbur’s wings were far smaller than Philza’s, though they still took up a large part of his back. He had a tail as well, thick with a spiked end like that of the dragons Tommy would see in his journeys to The End or Arel-Craft.

“If we were hunters, then we’d be betraying our own kind, Tommy,” Philza soothed, earning him a scowl from the young boy.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered as he gazed at the forest floor, though the two seemed to hear it as they shared another look.

“...What do you mean?” Wilbur asked, his voice calm, though Tommy could hear the barely concealed anger beneath it.

He’d gotten used to reading people’s emotions and moods. When you were around people who were stronger, faster, and more powerful than you, knowing if they wanted to kill you or not was a good skill to have.

Tommy laughed bitterly, “Don’t know if you boomers noticed or not, but the world’s kinda going to shit,” Tommy gestured to the forest, “Maigi and hybrid hunters are really big nowadays since there’s a whole bunch of fuckin’ admins and shit supporting them.”

“ _What_?” Philza demanded, his voice low and deadly.

Tommy only snorted at the man’s anger, pulling up his poncho sleeve to reveal his arm. It was covered in puckered scars and pale bluish-white feathers. What seemed to catch the pair’s attention, however, were the letters meticulously carved with what was probably a needle into his forearm.

_WINGLESS MONSTER._

“I don’t think a god would have _that_ carved into their arm,” Tommy spat, “I’m not interested in being a god. I’m already enough of a fuckin’ freak.”

Tears pricked at Tommy’s eyes from yelling, and he scrubbed at them furiously as he turned away to keep from crying.

“Thank you for your hospitality, I appreciate it a lot,” He seethed as he pulled up his hood and walked off into the darkened foliage.

No footsteps followed him, and he sighed, taking off in a sprint towards the sight of smoke.

His chest ached as his feet tried to pull him back to Philza and Wilbur.

* * *

Philza stood alongside Wilbur, rooted to the ground as he watched the boy pull up his hood and run off.

The little boy’s heart was bruised black and blue with countless years of scarring and betrayal and bitterness etched into it. Philza felt Tommy’s pain as though it were his own when he ran off.

What broke his heart more were the letters on the boy’s arm.

“Y’all are really bad with kids, aren’t ‘ya?” The flame crackled, extending itself and morphing into a young man with flat raven hair and stubble on his chin.

His eye sockets were empty, instead filled with lava that bubbled and hissed as it oozed down his cheeks. He wore an old black sweater underneath a t-shirt with a flame printed on it. 

The fire spirit adjusted the white bandana around his head before speaking, “Like, I thought the entire fiasco with _Techno_ was bad, but _Jeb_ that was bad.”

“What’s worse is that I don’t know why,” Philza turned away from the forest, his anger replaced with cold guilt that sat in the pit of his stomach like a stone.

Wilbur still stood there, seething, “ _Fucking hunters_. Phil, what was the name of the city next to that village again?”

“2b2t…” Phil trailed off as the realization struck him, “ _Jeb-fucking-Bergensten_ he’s from _that_ hellhole?”

“Certainly is,” the fire spirit huffed, climbing up the side of a tree before sitting cross-legged on a low branch, “That’s where I burned down the tree. The dude that owned it wasn’t happy and Tommy defended me....and stole my fish.”

Sapnap twisted around so that he hung by his legs upside-down on the branch, “Originally, he thought I was a hunter or just some random magic user, but he was pretty chill when I told him what I actually was.”

“So he doesn’t have anything against _gods_ , just against _being_ a god,” Wilbur snorted and a puff of mist flew out from his nostrils.

“Yup,” Sapnap confirmed, emphasizing the ‘p’.

Philza turned towards the forest, feeling the boy’s anguish spread out like a wave. It was bitter and sour like biting into a lime, and was tinged greyish-blue. It made the man shiver.

“That’s going to make this a _lot_ more difficult, then.”

* * *

Tommy sat by the fire in his campsite, stubbornly refusing to let the ghost’s words echo through his head, though the sight of hybrids out in the open was definitely new.

Most everywhere Tommy had been was a living hell for hybrids, with the exception of 2b2t where almost _everyone_ was a hybrid of some sort. They were hunted for sport or hanged in witch trials. Clerics were the only widely accepted magic user around since they were priests and only allowed to use their magic for healing. Making potions of something as simple as slowness in most places could lead to you being hanged.

Tommy shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. His chest ached, feeling like it was crushing itself from the inside-out. Tears finally escaped, tumbling down his cheeks as he quietly whimpered.

He hated himself for being such a fucking pathetic excuse of a hybrid--of a _person_. Avians were supposed to be strong, powerful creatures with wings and talons who could fall from even the greatest of heights and leave without a scratch.

His wings had been clipped and wouldn’t ever grow beyond a foot in length. His feathers were broken and in desperate need of a good preening. The only reason he had survived as long as he had was his thermal magic, his instincts, charisma, and sheer stubbornness.

Tommy curled in on himself as he finally gave in to the despair clinging to his head like a cobweb, tears trailing down his face as he quietly sobbed.

_Pathetic. Pussy. Worthless. Hybrid. Monster. Fuck-up._

“...Tommy?” A familiar voice quietly called, and the boy felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

“What the fuck do you want?” Tommy glowered, not wanting to meet the pitying gaze of the man behind him.

“I wanted to apologize.”

Tommy sighed turning to look at the soft dirt underneath him, “Nothin’ to ‘pologize for, big man. This one’s on me.”

“No, it’s not,” Philza said, his voice firm, “That...statement obviously hurt you, and I’m sorry we didn’t think about your situation before we said something.”

Tommy could hear the pointed glare in his voice, though he couldn’t see the ghost that it was directed to.

“It’s--...you’re okay. That’s okay. Thanks,” Tommy sniffled a bit, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle them, “Sorry for cryin’, big man, the ash from the fire--”

A careful hand gently peeled Tommy’s hand off of his mouth, and Tommy felt as Phil sat down next to him, wrapping his thin but incredibly _warm_ wings around the boy.

Tommy turned to the man, whose gaze was filled with compassion and guilt. It was an expression you’d use with your son when someone yelled at him, not a complete stranger you’d met a couple of hours ago.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Tommy,” Philza smiled warmly, extending his hands.

Tommy hesitated a moment before falling into them, burying his face in the man’s cloak.

“Oh! I nearly forgot,” Tommy felt fabric rustle around him as Phil held something out to the boy.

“This is a thank-you gift for helping me with that voidwalker,” he said, placing the trinket in Tommy’s hands.

It was a little wooden pendant engraved in the shape of a triangular heart that was meticulously carved to look like it was made of feathers.

Tommy peered up at the man, Wilbur standing next to him. The ghost grinned, pulling a similar necklace out of his jumper. Philza’s pendant was hung carefully around his neck, shiny and glossy from the varnish painted onto it.

The boy’s lips turned up in a smile as he clutched the pendant in his hand, nestling into the older man’s comforting embrace. He felt a hand ruffle his hair as Wilbur’s musical laugh filled the trees.

“Welcome to the family, Theseus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOly FUCK did I completely change the outline of this fic, you have no idea.
> 
> SO now, you actually have an engaging somewhat storyline that doesn't feel like I pulled it out of a fucking tin can. The way Tommy was going the last time just--I hate it. xD Now he's A n g s t y. But for good reason. Dream wasn't the only one who traumatized this child :). AND I get to introduce TUBBO and have FUN with TUBBO's arc because holy mother of the gods I want to do something with him and ow my heart
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed, have a lovely day from your Friendly Frosty! <3


	2. Act 1, Part 2: Sleep My Darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end for notes!

**One** thing Tommy  _ didn’t  _ expect when he met Philza and Wilbur was their magic.

He hardly knew how it worked or what they could do, but he knew that they were powerful. Philza fell slower, much like Tommy, and had powerful legs that allowed him to shoot up into the air where he glided gracefully. Wilbur could turn invisible and walk through things, though he usually stowed away during the daytime as sunlight burned him.

Aside from that, Tommy had zero fucking clue what they were capable of.

The young boy pulled some jerky out of his pack, tearing into it with teeth that were sharpened from years of eating tough roots and meat. Wilbur stared at him curiously while Phil drove the cart, urging the horses pulling it forward.

Wilbur’s tail twitched as he watched Tommy finish his snack before pulling out an iron dagger and a sharpening stone. He dragged the edge of the blade across the stone, enjoying the familiar sound.

“Don’t you have a sword? Or your magic?” Wilbur asked, tilting his head.

“Can’t use my magic in most cities, and I don’t have enough money for a sword,” Tommy replied without looking up from his work.

“Were there hunters in 2b2t?” He asked, his tail curling around behind Tommy to rest at the boy’s side.

Tommy grimaced, “Yeah...I dealt with fuckin’ poachers all the time before I met Montan and Sapnap. They helped a bit--hey, you wanna know what we used to call hybrid hunters back in the ‘ol 2b2t?”

Wilbur grinned, crossing his arms, “Sure.”

“Tail-wagglers.”

Wilbur laughed and Tommy could hear Philza stifle a chuckle. He laughed along with, before settling down and continuing sharpening his blade.

“ _ Jeb _ , we used to have so much fuckin’ fun messing with ‘em. They’d come after Sapnap and I’d just  _ appear  _ from the trees with my spooky voice and they’d run off-- _ gods  _ it was fuckin’ hilarous.”

“Spooky voice?” Philza asked, and Tommy cleared his throat with a mischievous grin.

“ _ DO YOU LIKE PUSSY? _ ” Tommy’s voice crackled like it was coming out of a broken radio, unnaturally loud and distorted.

Wilbur shrieked with surprise and dissolved into laughter, Philza following suit. Tommy laughed along with them, “Aw, did I scare ‘ya, Deo--”

Tommy stopped himself, the grin falling off of his face.

This wasn’t Deo. Deo had left him three years ago. He was probably dead.

“What’s with the long face, Theseus?” Wilbur asked, seemingly oblivious to the sudden shift in mood as he ruffled the blonde’s hair.

The cart abruptly stopped, Philza climbing into the back of the cart, kneeling down to look at Tommy with a concerned gaze.

“Tommy?” Phil asked carefully, like one would a scared child.

“I don’t need your fuckin’ pity, Phil, you can go back and drive the cart,” Tommy muttered.

_ How’d he know? Did he hear him say Deo instead of Wilbur? _

Tommy pushed those thoughts aside as he returned to sharpening his dagger, keeping his gaze pointedly at the wooden boards of the cart.

“It’s not pity when you’re hurting, Tommy. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m  _ fine _ , big man, you can keep driving the cart,” Tommy growled, turning to face the kind man.

“ _ Tommy _ ,” Wilbur’s voice came from next to Tommy, and he felt warm arms wrap around him as the man pulled the boy into his lap, “ _ Tell Phil why you’re upset _ .”

The spirit’s voice had turned smooth and silky like honey, making Tommy instantly relax as he held the dagger loosely in his grip. He melted into the touch, his body feeling oddly warm as a pleasant buzz clouded his mind.

“I did that to Deo once and he was scared...It reminded me of him, I guess,” Tommy said, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“ _ Who’s Deo _ ?” Wilbur asked, seeing Tommy tense even under the effects of his spell.

“Old friend. I met him when I went to the capital, Hypixel, where he was doing a bedwars tournament. He trained me...he was the first person I considered family since Sapnap. Montan was there, too, but not for long. Montan’s dead now…” the boy sucked in a shaky breath, “I was there when he died.”

Silent tears began to fall from Tommy’s cheeks, Wilbur’s magic beginning to wear off as Tommy stubbornly clung to his grief. Wilbur and Phil shared a look, and the older of the two gave the boy a quick peck on the forehead before returning to the front of the cart.

“Wil, could you put ‘im to sleep? He’s still exhausted from the voidwalker encounter and probably going to yell at you for using your siren song,” Philza sighed, urging the horses forward.

Wilbur nodded, wrapping his translucent wings around the teenager protectively, cradling him against his chest. The boy sobbed quietly, and Wilbur could see the foggy gold in Tommy’s eyes from his magic beginning to fade back into his usual cerulean blue.

Wilbur began to hum, magic weaving into his tone as he sang quietly, seeing Philza put a couple pieces of cotton in his ears out of the corner of his eye.

_ “ _ _ Sleep, baby sleep, outside there walks a sheep, _ ” The spirit sang, watching as Tommy relaxed in his hold, his sobbing quieting until it was just the occasional sniffle.

“ _ A sheep with white feet, who drinks his milk so sweet _ .”

“Wilby?” Tommy slurred, his eyes drooping as he leaned his head against the crook of Wilbur’s arm.

Wilbur shushed him, running a hand through the boy’s hair, “Go to sleep, Tommy.”

The boy’s eyes finally fell closed, his breathing deep and even. Wilbur sighed, sharing a concerned look with Phil before tightening his hold on Tommy.

He vowed to never let anything happen to this boy again.

* * *

Springtime in the desert was painful at best, a rainy wasteland at worst.

Foolish finished adjusting the glimmering emerald on the head of his sphinx before carefully clambering down its back. The giant stone creature grinned, shifting its tail so that Foolish could use the appendage like a slide. 

He stepped back to take a good look at the sphinx, which stood proudly in front of his pyramid; its tail moving to return back to its side. Scaffolding and ladders were scattered around the build that he’d definitely have to remove later, but for right now, he was going to enjoy the rest of the afternoon inside of the warm sandstone of his pyramid.

Trailing after him was a king cobra made of black quartz that Foolish had dug up during his sand excavations when he was building the pyramids. The totem god held his arm to the side, and the cobra quickly snaked up his leg and onto his arm where it rested like a giant armband.

Foolish usually preferred to stay indoors during the springtime, as it was constantly raining and unbearably humid. The moisture soaked into his golden joints, making him squeak and creak as he walked. It made his emerald eyes fog up and get water all over them and shit--

Foolish shivered as a cold gust of wind blew past him, signalling another storm. He hurried inside the pyramid just as the rain began to pick up, thunder rumbling as lightning danced across the sky.

Grand statues of underworld gods with animal heads stood imposingly in front of a grand smooth sandstone staircase where a lanky figure with antlers and a green cloak was lounging about.

“Oh, hey Dream,” Foolish greeted, pulling the hood of his shark jacket down.

He’d found it in a desert village and had grown extremely fond of it, with its bright colours and the cartoonish shark face with fabric teeth on the hood. It was far too big for his small stature, the sleeves stretching well beyond his hands and the back reaching down to his knees.

“Foolish!” The creature exclaimed, appearing in front of the totem god with its familiar smiley face mask inches away from Foolish’s face.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get done with that stupid sphinx so I could talk to you,” Dream crossed their arms, which were made of an odd combination of shadows and tree branches layered together, “I found something the other day that might interest you.~”

“Is it more sandstone? I’ve been running low recently and could use a bit more for the--”

Dream groaned loudly, leaning forward on lanky digitigrade legs made out of the same odd material as their arms, “Would you  _ shut up  _ about your builds for  _ five seconds _ ? And no, it’s not fucking  _ sandstone. _ ”

The totem god raised a thick, golden eyebrow, “Is it quartz?--”

The masked creature flicked Foolish on the forehead, causing a thin silver thread to sew the totem god’s metal mouth shut.

“ _ No _ \--dear  _ Jeb _ \--I found the Fallen Grace with Phil and Wilbur.”

Foolish tilted his head, “‘ou act li’ I sh’ld know who th’t is.”

The eldritch god hung its head dramatically, the thread in Foolish’s mouth abruptly disappearing, “ _ Why  _ did I decide to work with  _ you  _ of all people?”

“You didn’t? You just showed up one day and started stealing my saplings and eating them.”

“Potato, potato, you offered to let me stay.”

“‘Cause you’re homeless, Dream.”

The masked creature’s twig limbs puffed up like an angry cat’s fur would, “I am  _ not  _ homeless.”

Foolish grinned, “Techno says you are.”

“Techno stole a goddamn polar bear out of the arctic and called it  _ Steve _ . I’m pretty sure he’s senile by now.”

The totem god shrugged, “He’s pretty good at combat for being senile--hey, didn’t he beat you in Beast’s tournament?”

“We do not speak of that day,” Dream muttered.

Foolish laughed before trotting off to his makeshift kitchen where Dream had already appeared and was lounging on the black quartz countertop.

“So...you gonna explain who the “Fallen Grace” is?” Foolish asked, pulling an apple and some herbs out of a cabinet.

“His proper name’s Theseus right now, but he’s a demigod--a strong one at that,” Dream explained, legs dangling off the side of the kitchen island, “I still can’t find the other one, but I have a pretty good idea.”

“How old are they?” The totem god inquired as he crushed a couple of herbs together with a mortar and pestle.

“Uh…” the masked creature tapped their chin in thought, “I think Theseus is sixteen and the other one is older...maybe seventeen or eighteen?”

“So...children?”

Dream rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly, “ _ Yeeeah _ , but they’re already traumatized so I get a free pass to bully them.”

Foolish raised an eyebrow as he cut the apple into slices, “You’re seventeen-thousand two-hundred and fifty-six, and you’re going to go out of your way to harass a pair of  _ teenagers _ ?”

The masked creature inspected its claws, “I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Nothing interesting’s happening nowadays. The gods are all super chummy and shit.”

The totem god set down the apple he had been chopping up before looking Dream’s smiley mask directly in the eyes, “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

The eldritch god hopped off of the countertop, “Hell yeah I am.”

“I’m not getting you out of your shit this time, I hope ‘ya know.”

Dream grinned, “I know.”

Foolish sighed, popping an apple slice into his mouth, “Who’s the poor soul this time?”

“Grian from Hermitcraft.”

“That’s a death wish, even for a god.”

The eldritch god’s smile only grew as he stared the totem god down.

“That’s what I’m counting on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
> 
> Dream's a v i l l ai n  
> Because he's a b it ch  
> Not the CC tho, just the character  
> But I think you knew that  
> ANYWAYS  
> SBI fuels me  
> As do any family dynamics so you're definately going to see the traumatized children getting lots of comfort from family figures  
> Thank you and enjoy from your Friendly Frosty! <3


	3. Act 1, Part 3: Foxish Delights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end for notes!
> 
> TW: Suicide (although it was in a dream) and animal death!

Dried blood sloughed off of Tommy’s hands as he flexed them, panting heavily.

The thick smell of copper and magic filled the air around him, making his stomach churn. There were cracked feathers on the floor, his wings caked with mud and outstretched behind him, though they had been sliced open and were bleeding profusely. 

He held a netherite sword in his hand, the cold stone glistening with enchantments and warm purple blood. The sky was painted deep indigo as the setting sun fell behind the horizon, rain clouds beginning to blow in from the east.

Corpses were scattered around at his feet. He knew some of them; a bloodied Wilbur with glazed golden eyes, Sapnap’s ashen body in a pool of water, Boffy with a sword through his chest. Others were complete strangers marred beyond recognition.

Tommy dropped the sword, finding himself peering into the cold eyes of a smiley-face mask. The creature it belonged to tilted its head before poking the boy in the chest.

Tommy realized that his chest was glowing softly like hot embers, his hands radiating heat that illuminated his feathers in shadowy blues and greys.

He looked like a god.

“That’d be because you are,” the creature laughed, wheezing like a tea kettle.

“What do you want, Dream?” Tommy asked in a haze, not knowing what his own words meant.

“You need to stop pitying yourself and start acting like a god. You’ll be more fun to play with once you do.”

Tommy clenched his hands at his sides, his wings flared, “Weren’t you banished to the Vault?”

The creature shrugged, “Sam never said anything about Dreamworld visits.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but nobody needs to know that I’ve left,” Dream laughed.

Tommy pushed past them, standing over the cliffside next to the bodies of his friends, “Which timeline is this?”

The eldritch god moved to sit next to the boy, grabbing Sapnap’s hand, who was almost completely submerged in a small pool of water, “It’s a one off, actually, so it’s pretty damn far from what’s going to happen.”

Tommy sighed, relieved at the creature’s words, “You have a chance to take it back, then, right now. Karl can help with this--the timeline I mean. It’d be fixed,” He grabbed the masked being’s arm, “No-one would die.”

Dream laughed bitterly, “I’m bound by the universe’s rules. Even if I didn’t _want_ to, I’m still doomed to repeat the actions of the others.”

Tommy looked down at the canyon beneath him, fireflies lighting up the night as they flew towards them, poppies and pale chrysanthemums sprouting out of the blood-soaked dirt around the pair.

“Fate’s kinda cruel like that, isn’t it?” Tommy asked, and Dream moved to ruffle the blonde’s hair.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it, Theseus.”

Tommy snorted, lycoris sprouting along his arms and in his hair, “There’s nothing fun in death.”

Dream huffed, crossing their arms, “You’re just boring, then.”

The young boy laughed, squeezing the creature’s forearm which also began to grow poppies and green buttercups.

“I’ll see you then, Dream.”

The creature moved their mask just enough so that Tommy could see the pained grin they gave the boy, “Until then, Tommy.”

The boy let himself go, closing his eyes as he plummeted off of the cliffside.

He felt pain and a wave of rib-crushing panic sweep through him as darkness engulfed his vision.

* * *

Tommy awoke screaming before he caught hold of himself and covered his mouth.  _ (Avoid loud sounds. Attract hunters and mobs.) _

Hot tears trailed down his face as his chest heaved, feeling like it was collapsing in on itself. He only wore his t-shirt and some cotton pants, and was apparently lying on a bedroll next to the cart. The sun was beginning to come up, though the morning felt  _ unbearably  _ chilly without his cloak keeping him warm.

“Tommy--” a panicked voice called softly, as Wilbur came around the side of the cart to kneel next to the boy.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, I gotcha,” Wilbur soothed, holding out his arms which Tommy fell into as he cried quietly.

“Nightmare?” The ghost asked gently, cradling Tommy’s head against his chest as he moved the boy to rest in his lap.

Tommy nodded against the man’s soft yellow jumper, who hummed in understanding. The creature’s wings and tail wrapped around Tommy’s body, a comforting hold that protected him from the chill of the morning.

“Don’t worry,  _ mo stóirín _ , I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Wilbur reassured. 

A feeling of warmth, of  _ home  _ filled Tommy’s chest as he was held to the kind ghost’s body. He sighed, enjoying the touch and sweet nothings inlaid with magic that Wilbur whispered to him as he carded through Tommy’s hair.

Wilbur cooing at him like a new puppy or Philza making fun of his drowsiness when he woke up were problems for future Tommy, the boy decided as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Tommy whittled away at a piece of wood while Philza meditated next to him in the old wooden cart. Wilbur was taking his turn driving the cart, humming softly along to the clopping of the horses’ hooves.

The trio had finally gotten out of the forest and onto the savannah, where they were meant to travel until they reached Müntauk--a little farming community just west of the Epick Esempé. Considering Wilbur didn’t need to sleep, and Philza only needed to meditate for a couple hours a day in place of resting, they’d be able to get to Müntauk in a day and a half.

It felt weird being the only one in the group who had to eat and sleep regularly. Philza only needed one big meal--say a deer or a boar--once a week, while Wilbur collected moonlight in bottles and would drink it during the daytime when he hid away in the shadows underneath the cart.

Tommy would sleep from moonrise to an hour or so before moonset, and snacked on berries and jerky he had preserved and kept in his pack throughout the day. He was running low, and didn’t think Phil nor Wilbur would be carrying any sort of food with them, so he’d have to go on a hunt soon.

The log Tommy was whittling away at was merely a sliver of wood now, which he flicked away onto the moving dirt, resting his head against a crate. The silence the two brought was uncomfortable for the younger boy, who was used to joking around and play-fighting with his friends on long journeys--telling tall tales and bad relationship stories and just about anything they could think of to pass the time.

The gods were just... _ unnerving. _ Weird. Quiet. Wise.

Most didn’t sleep or eat normal food, they were quiet and completely open about using their magic and displaying the fact that they were hybrids, they were  _ unbearably  _ quiet at times, and they seemed to care for him less like he was a random stranger and more like Tommy was their son.

_ Otherworldly  _ was a good word for them.

“I need to go off and do some hunting so I have food for the rest of the journey,” Tommy called at Wilbur, grabbing his pack along with his dagger and bow and arrows. 

The ghost turned back to look at him with a raised eyebrow, “Do you want one of us to come with you? It’d be safer that way, and Phil’s pretty damn good at hunting.”

Tommy shook his head, eager to get away from the stifling silence, “I’ve hunted plenty before, Wil, I’ll be _just_ _fine_.”

Wilbur narrowed his eyes at the boy for a moment before relenting with a sigh, “Fine, but try to keep on the path that we’re already going.”

The blonde grinned, humming in agreement as he leapt off of the cart. He rolled safely to the dirt, stretching out and watching the cart go a couple of yards into the distance before he darted into the treeline.

Pulling his hood over his head and a silver lighter out of his pocket, a tiny flame immediately jumped from the lighter and onto one of his arrows. Tommy grinned at the flame, who flickered in a waving motion.

He ran until he couldn’t anymore, enjoying the wind through his hair and the damp smell of the earth, finally stopping by a tree to rest. The boy closed his eyes, his instinct spinning wildly like a compass before finally settling on a patch of mud a couple feet away from him.

Imprinted in the mud were rabbit tracks, freshly made and quite large.  _ (Feet for leaping potions, skin for tarp and waterproof clothes, bones for arrows and tools, flesh for consumption.) _

The flame pointed west, directing Tommy towards the sound of a bubbling stream and several more sets of rabbit tracks. He quietly stalked towards the sound, following the tracks as he went. A stream like molten glass poured along weathered rocks before flowing into a pond a couple yards away, where--lo-and-behold--several rabbits, two boars, and various types of birds lounged about.

Judging by packed earth and watery prints of several animals heading in the same direction, the pond was a common watering hole. Tommy crouched low to the ground, grabbing out a notebook and a thin piece of charcoal to write down the coordinates of the water hole before stopping himself.

He wouldn’t need the coordinates. He was going to Spiere and wouldn’t be coming back here for quite some time. It was his new destination, the place that his heart’s compass pointed towards.

He  _ had  _ to go.

Tommy sighed, pocketing the journal and pulling his bow and arrow off of his back. He took a deep breath, aiming for one of the rabbits drinking from the pond. It was close enough to the one next to it that a single shot would probably take out them both.

He steadied his hands, taking in a breath as he nocked an arrow and drew the string back.

_ Shoot! _

A crashing from the trees caused Tommy to yelp in surprise, his arrow jolting out of place and instead landing in the dirt several feet away from the rabbit. The creatures began to leap away in fear, the boars turning towards the cause of the sound. A dark figure in the trees, looming over the forest.

_ A fucking kitsune. _

It was huge; a six-tailed fox that was easily twice as large as the boars next to the watering hole. Glimmering black eyes surrounded in intricate white markings surveyed its prey before leaping onto one of the boars, easily pinning it underneath its dagger-sharp claws.

The boar squealed, attempting to wriggle out of its grip before finally going limp as the fox crushed it underneath its weight. A pair of rabbits hid in a nearby bush, the fox sniffing at the ground before hurrying over to it and spearing them with its claws. It picked the rabbits up in its jaws, placing them near the boar before tearing into the latter.

Tommy’s heart pounded in his chest. Kitsunes were divine creatures, and excellent hunters. Attacking one was a death sentence, especially considering that they were hyper-intelligent and capable of wielding multiple types of magic at once.

He pulled his bandana over his mouth, carefully backing away from the fox. Tommy shouldered his bow, turning on his heel once he was a distance away from the kitsune and running.

And then his shoe snagged on a stray tree root, sending him tumbling to the earth.

The fox immediately perked up, its head twisting around to the source of the sound as it leapt at him, stopping just above him.

Tommy twisted to face the creature, pulling out his dagger and aiming it towards the fox’s throat. Adrenaline coursed through him, making his hand shake incessantly as he silently plead for Wilbur or Sapnap or Phil or _someone_ to come by and help him.

The fox sniffed at him curiously, and Tommy growled in a weak attempt at trying to scare it off. It shook itself like a wet dog before prodding the boy with its nose and trotting off towards its meal.

It paused a moment, turning towards Tommy expectantly before motioning with its head for the boy to follow. He hesitated for a moment before following, deciding that it would be better to follow the giant divine fox as opposed to refuse and be immediately eaten.

He followed the kitsune over to the fresh boar and rabbits, the kitsune taking the rabbits in its mouth and placing them at the boy’s feet.

_ Tommy, right? _

The voice echoed inside of Tommy’s head, thickly accented and filled with curiosity.

“Oh--yeah, I’m, uh, big man Tommy--uh, Tommy _ Innit _ !” He declared proudly, bravado poorly covering up his rising anxiety, "They call me the best hunter around in shooting shit with my trusty bow and arrow."

The fox snorted,  _ Looks like Phil adopted another random traumatized child. I’m Fundy, Wilbur’s son, the shapeshifter kitsune. _

“You’re...Wilbur’s  _ son _ ?” He asked, confusedly watching the fox who rolled its giant eyes before returning to its meal.

_ Long story short, he’s part phantom, dragon, and human, and somebody killed both the dragon and human half of him which is why he’s a spirit now. Back when he  _ wasn’t _ a spirit, he fucked a salmon and thus, I exist. _

“How in Jeb’s name does a three-way hybrid and a  _ salmon _ make a fuckin’  _ kitsune _ ?”

The fox shrugged,  _ I’ve learned not to ask questions. _

Tommy snorted, “Fair enough. I’ve met a weird masked dude in a dream that I somehow knew but also didn’t, learned vaguely that I’m a fuckin’  _ god _ , and met two hybrid gods over the span of three days, and I’ve asked  _ maybe _ two questions,” he said, counting each off his fingers.

_ …Damn. Quite the three days. _

“Tell me about it,” the boy sighed, “Do you know anything about them?”

The fox turned from his meal with a nod,  _ I’ve been around long enough to know a good bit about the gods, but even  _ I  _ don’t know everything. _

Fundy scooped the last of his meal from the ground, swallowing it in one go,  _ That masked dude you met, Dream, could tell you more. They have a big book of god lore and shit that they keep around, they tried to hit George with it during our wedding when he objected. _

“ _ Ohh-kay _ , bit of a problem with that,” Tommy rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “I kinda said goodbye to him in the dream and then threw myself off of a cliff.”

The fox laughed, wheezing a bit as he did, Really  _ rough three days then, eh? Where are you guys headed? There’s a Dream shrine in Müntauk and Goshen a couple miles north of here. _

“Müntauk and then to the Epick Esempé.”

_ Then do the one in town square. Bring some incense and berries or whatever shit in the forest you can find, put it in the offering bowl and then sleep there for the night. They’ll come visit ‘ya in a dream and you can get the book from them. _

“And if they don’t  _ want  _ to give me the book?”

Fundy snorted, a puff of steam escaping his nostrils,  _ They will if I have anything to say about it. _

Tommy looked over at the trees with a scowl, “Why are you being so nice to me? I interrupted your meal and you gave me fuckin’ food and directions.”

The fox paused for a moment, peering at the boy with curious black eyes, ‘ _ Why has everyone around you been so cruel to you’, is a better question. _

The blonde sputtered, attempting to protest before stopping himself.

_ Humans are pretty nasty fucking creatures, if you ask me. When I’m human, they mock me for being a ‘furry’ and a hybrid. When I’m a fox, they hunt me down in order to skin me and sell me and eat me. _

Fundy moved over to stand in front of Tommy,  _ But that doesn’t mean that they’re all bad. Same goes for the gods. _

The fox picked the rabbits up in its jaws, placing them in Tommy’s arms,  _ Some of them may be fucking pricks who play horrible tricks on humans and hybrids alike, but there are also the ones who care about complete strangers so much that they would sacrifice themselves to save them. _

The boy peered at the ground, his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment, “Dream’s pretty fuckin’ mean.”

Fundy laughed,  _ Fair, but I don’t think you could change that green bastard even if you tried.  _

Tommy sighed, “...And Phil and Wilbur?”

_ They care about you like you’re their son. They tend to pick up traumatized children and immediately go ‘is no-one going to adopt this child?’, and not wait for an answer. _

The boy laughed, the fox laughing along with him,  _ But seriously, treat them well. If they’ve both adopted you, then you’re my little brother now, and I’m happy to bite your head off if you disrespect them. _

“ _ OOH-KAY _ , I’ll definitely keep that in mind, big man,” Tommy sputtered, “No disrespecting the creepy ghost and the old man, got it.”

Fundy bumped the blonde with his nose,  _ You better, now let’s get you home before the sun sets. _

_ Home _ . Tommy grinned, following the fox as he trotted through the forest.

He finally had a home.

* * *

“Tommy--Fundy!” Wilbur rushed over to the pair, wrapping them both in a wing-filled hug.

“Phil and I got worried when you didn’t come back, Toms--fucking arsewipe,” the ghost breathed, lightly smacking Tommy over the head.

“Sorry, Wil, hunting took longer since Fundy here spooked me and then gave me a thirty-minute lecture on being a good person.”

Wilbur laughed musically, Phil chuckling behind him as the giant fox snorted and then proceeded to pick Tommy up by the hood of his coat like a misbehaving kitten--much to the blonde’s chagrin.

Fundy dropped him in a heap next to Phil and Wilbur before butting heads with the latter in an odd gesture of affection. Phil scratched behind the fox’s ears, murmuring to the kitsune in a language Tommy couldn’t understand.

The fox laughed and nodded before turning to the blonde boy,  _ Remember what I said, Toms. Good to have you a part of the family. _

Tommy grinned, “Thanks for havin’ me.”

The kitsune ran into the forest, turning slightly to shout at the trio,  _ AND--TWITCH PR-- _ , before being cut off as he stumbled and began rolling downhill into several bushes.

_ FUCKING OW _ \--

The three burst into laughter, Tommy doubling over as Wilbur asked if the fox was okay, only to be met with the fox rambling off about something called a “Youtooz” like a soapbox salesman.

Tommy looked around at the giant fox, the ghostly musician, and the kind, winged father figure of the group.

His new home.

His  _ family. _

“I think I’m gonna like it here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUNDY POOOOOOOOOOOOOOG  
> it is also now canon that he knows what a Youtooz is and Twitch Prime because Technoblade and holy fuck this family is only going to get bigger just you wait  
> Also Dream being bound by the actions of his counterparts being terrible people even though he just wants to mildly harass a pair of teenagers pog
> 
> Thank you all for the massive amount of support this project has received, I cannot thank you enough for all of the kudos and comments and just everything, they fuel my existence xD. I love you guys (platonically) so much, thank you all. Enjoy and thank you from your Friendly Frosty! <3


	4. Act 1, Part 4: The Muntauk Shrine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end for notes!

**After** a day and a half of traveling, the trio finally reached Müntauk.

It was a little farming community out in the middle of the savannah, protected by a ring of acacia trees and a golem made of iron and vines. A couple of villagers were out tending to a small potato farm, meticulously weeding and watering the tiny plants.

A cool spring breeze blew through the savannah, the tall grass swaying softly as sparrows dug through the dirt for worms.

After being in the middle of nowhere with only Wilbur’s singing and incessant questions about Tommy and Philza’s quiet eyes boring through his skull to keep him company, the boy was eager to jump out of the cart and run to the market to chat with the vendors and street kids.

Of course, Phil insisted that he set up his own shop first, bringing the spirit and the younger boy along with him. Tommy  _ also  _ spent a good ten minutes explaining to the two that  _ maybe  _ it wasn’t a fantastic idea to sell potions, use magic, and have their giant goddamn wings out in the open for all to see in a place that could very well hang them for existing.

The two finally relented, Phil opting to sell some of the meat Fundy had been bringing them along with finely made tapestries and clothes that he had sewn, and Wilbur putting away his wings. In retaliation, Tommy was only allowed to go off on his own under the condition that Wilbur accompanied him.

Tommy reluctantly agreed, taking Wilbur to go browse the stalls. He looked less like a grand god and more like an excited schoolkid in a candy shop. Sighing fondly at the ghost’s delight, he went off to buy herbs and cheesecloth for tea.

“ _ Tea _ ? No nectar, moonlight, alcohol--well, I guess you couldn’t really have alcohol--but  _ old man juice  _ of all things?”

Tommy rolled his eyes at the comment, whacking the ghost on the arm, “It is  _ not  _ fuckin’  _ old man juice _ .”

Wilbur crossed his arms with a sly grin, “The only people that I know who drink it are old men.”

“You’re all old compared to me.”

“Aww, is lil’ old Thesesus trying to be a big man by drinking hot leaf juice?” Wilbur teased, Tommy going tomato red at the comment and stepping on the ghost’s foot which phased out of existence.

“I’ll have you fuckin’ know,  _ bitch boy _ , I’ve been drinking tea all my life because it’s fuckin’  _ soothing  _ ‘n shit and it makes my throat feel better,” Tommy scowled, blushing furiously. 

“With all your yelling I’d hope it would, otherwise you’d have killed your vocal cords by now.”

Tommy growled, pulling his hood over his face as the spirit laughed and gave him a pity pat on the head.

Despite the blushing and embarrassment, it felt like Tommy was being teased by an older brother.

Like Sapnap or Deo.

Like Boffy or Wisp.

~~ Like Tubbo. ~~

_ Was he replacing them by doing this with Wilbur? Was he rejecting them by finding a new family? Would they be proud of him for finally moving on? _

_ If they were dead, would they care? _

Something deep ached in his heart, and Tommy finally realized what it was.

Pain.

_ Why was he in pain?  _

He had so much. He had Wilbur and Fundy and Philza.

_ Or would they leave him, too? _

“Toms?” Wilbur asked carefully, “I didn’t mean to upset ‘ya, are you okay?”

Tommy barely realized through his spiraling thoughts that he had walked with the ghost to the very end of the village next to an old acacia tree, past all of the market stalls.

He took off his hood and plastered on a cocky smile, “If you think a little comment like that would get to big man TommyInnit, then think again bitch!”

The boy punched the ghost in the arm before running back into the market, Wilbur laughing and trailing along behind him. Tommy was out of breath by the time he made it back to Phil’s stall, just barely outrunning the wheezing spirit behind him. 

The boy ducked behind the older man’s green robes as Phil was making labels for some of the tapestries, though something strong picked him up by his hood and held him up to their face.

They were a fox hybrid with sharpened teeth that were bared in a wide grin, cunning brown eyes on a human face covered in orange stubble, brazen orange hair, fox legs and a fluffy fox tail, and clawed hands covered in chestnut fur.

The stranger wore a hat with multiple gold emblems on it, one of which Tommy recognized as Philza’s triangular heart sigil which also appeared on the hybrid’s leather jacket and lanyard which were covered in pins.

“I found ‘im, Wil!” The hybrid shouted, the ghost coming up to punch Tommy lightly on the arm while doubled-over panting.

“Fundy!” The boy grinned as the fox set him down and wrapped the boy in a hug, “You’re taller than me--what the fuck?!’

Fundy wheezed, “Wait another couple hundred years, Tommy, then you will achieve the height of a great kitsune.”

Tommy laughed as Phil pat Wilbur on the back, muttering something about ‘stupid child outrunning me,’ ‘two-hundred years older and fucking slow--’.

“Mind if I steal Tommy for the night?” the fox hybrid asked Phil, who raised an eyebrow with a grin.

“Sure, just bring him back in the morning--and no hunting or doing stupid magic shit!” The blonde man warned, and Fundy nodded with a snort.

“I have never done  _ anything  _ stupid in my  _ entire  _ life.”

“Just yesterday you fell down a hill because you were too busy shouting at us,” Tommy snickered.

The fox rolled his eyes, his tail twitching in agitation, “Whenever I do the funny bit the universe decides to cut me off.”

The four laughed again before Fundy finally bid his dad and his grandfather farewell, taking Tommy into the town square.

“Are they cool with hybrids here?” The boy asked once they were out of earshot of the older men.

The fox hybrid nodded, “It’s a big safezone set up by a couple of clerics and warlocks for hybrids and maigi--just outcasts and magic users in general, really.”

Tommy sighed in relief, “Thank fuckin’ Jeb. Anyways, where’s this stupid shrine?” The boy grinned mischievously, “I need to talk to your fiancé.”

Fundy sputtered, turning bright pink as his tail swished bashfully, “I regret--you--why,  _ why _ ?”

“You said wedding when we met, so it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

The boy snickered, “And Wil told me.”

The fox covered his face with his hands, “Remind me to kill him later.”

“Isn’t he already dead?”

“Not the point--just, c’mon-- _ gods  _ you’re worse than HBomb,” Fundy sighed, though Tommy could see his mouth pull up into a smile underneath his hands.

Tommy laughed as the hybrid led him to a tall building made of acacia wood and what appeared to be nether quartz.

It was quite grand, although very small. It was an open-air shrine with a singular sculpture made of quartz that twisted around in a circle. Copper offering bowls were scattered around the sculpture, some even  _ in  _ the sculpture held by animals or people.

The main figure of the sculpture was a creature on digitigrade legs seemingly made of branches and moss and other things you’d find in a forest. They had on a white mask that had a smiley-face crudely carved into it, earrings made of twine and sweet berries, and the antlers of a deer. The only thing that really stood out was the baggy green hoodie they wore loosely around their figure which was sprouting with various types of flowers and vines.

Animals and odd-looking people twisted around the tall figure, creating a wide circle around it. Boars with bat wings, deer with the horns of a ram, a robed figure wearing a frowny-face mask, a cat with two tails and four eyes, and a bird with feathers made of leaves and frost.

It was beautiful and imposing. They looked like a true god, worshipped by those who wanted their help.

“Dream’s a god of a bunch of different things, but their main three are forests, jinxes, and cantrips, thus the vines and the hybrid animals and shit,” Fundy explained, running his hand along a carved peony. 

“Jinxes?” Tommy asked, peering at the eerily familiar masked face.

Fundy nodded, “Cantrips are like little spells that don’t require much energy but are really useful--like one of those multi-use knives you can find at Hypixel. Jinxes are just mini curses that make a person’s life worse, like constantly hearing the sound of bells or minor mining fatigue.”

The boy turned to look at Fundy, who was gazing at the statue with a mixture of fondness and something indescribable.

“Wait--if  _ you’re  _ Dream’s fiancé, and I’m your adopted brother, would that make him--”

“Your sibling-in-law, yup.”

Tommy paused a moment, before laughing nervously, “Oh--okay. Well  _ fuck,  _ this family is confusing.”

Fundy winked with a grin, “That’s the whole point of having one.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, the ginger laughing and bending down a bit so that he could speak quietly in Tommy’s ear, “There’s a lot of people here, wait until dusk. I brought berries and a couple of wooden dolls that you can give them.”

Tommy nodded, “How long ‘till then?”

The fox squinted up at the sky for a moment before answering, “Not long. Couple minutes at most.”

The sun was beginning to set, leaving trails of gold and pink as it slowly dipped beyond the horizon. People were already beginning to put away their carts and shops, heading back to their homes or the local pub for a late-night drink.

Fundy pulled his satchel off, which he handed to Tommy before grabbing some incense from one of his jacket pockets. The fox’s fingertip lit up with a small pale blue flame which he used to light the incense. 

The thin smoke carried with it the heady smell of pine needles which perfumed the inside of the shrine as it lazily floated through the air. The boy inhaled a bit of it, enjoying the fresh scent that was eternally different from the stifling pollen that fell off from the blooming coniferous trees in the forest.

“Dream controls the Dreamworld--a bit ironically--so understand that anything that happens in your dream is  _ just  _ a dream,” Fundy assured, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I’ll be with you the whole night, so call for me if you need me, ‘kay?”

Tommy nodded, “Call ‘ya if Dream tries to murder me, got it.”

The fox hybrid snorted with a sly grin, “I doubt they’re going to try to  _ murder  _ you. Maim, maybe, but not murder.”

The blonde laughed, and Fundy peered at the sky again before motioning to the statue. Tommy sat down beside the statue and carefully poured Fundy’s offerings into a copper bowl that was being carried by quartz ants.

There were various types of fruit and berries, acorns of all sizes, vines, flowers, ivy, herbs, branches that were bound together by twine with little rocks for eyes, river rocks, a long branch, and even a metal rod Tommy vaguely recognized as a wand.

It was pretty humble for an offering to a  _ god _ , but Fundy’s presence was probably offering enough to the creature. 

If Tommy had a husband, he’d miss his husband after a while, too. Or he’d have a wife. Or maybe he’d find a moth and call it his wife. 

He never really thought about getting a wife or husband, now that he thought about it. 

Living with someone forever and taking care of them and holding them when they cried. Making dinner and cleaning the house when the other was away and giving them a kiss when they got home as you told them that they were out of butter.

…Tommy liked the moth idea better.

“Most people are gone, if you wanted to go now, you could,” Fundy said, tail flicking as he watched the villagers with narrowed eyes.

The boy nodded, lying next to the offering bowl with his back against the cold quartz of the statue. He wrapped his cloak around him, putting his hood up as he tried to get comfortable.

There was a rustling next to Tommy as Fundy in his fox form curled up next to the statue, chirruping at the boy who took the hint and laid on the kitsune’s soft fur. The fox moved his tail to cover Tommy like a blanket as he continued to watch the shrine’s entrance.

Warm and safe in the kitsune’s comforting presence, the blonde fell asleep.

* * *

There were stars alight in the daytime.

Tommy was lying flat on his back on something hard, rough, and grey, gazing up at the sky.

It was bright enough that Tommy could see the sun and the pale blue sky glimmering like a sapphire. The stars flowed like dusty specks in a sea of milk, twinkling softly and brighter than any stars Tommy had ever seen.

The boy blinked up at the sky before sitting up, finding that he was laying on the concrete platform of a train station. Cherry blossoms were planted all across the slab as a sleek, boxy vehicle flew past him. It was smoother and quieter than any steam engine some larger servers used--even Hypixel used a clanky old tram made of iron and logs.

There were fairy lights and lanterns and _so_ _many_ flowers everywhere. The train station’s building was covered in climbing roses and ivy that sparkled with morning dew.

It was one of the most beautiful places Tommy had ever seen.

A masked figure made of shadow and branches appeared in front of him, spreading their arms out as they gestured around.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh b o y
> 
> So I'm not going to be continuing this chapter right away as we need some more c h a r ac t er development before we talk to Dream again.~  
> I love them so much, I hate hurting them or just kajdsjjf;dsk  
> Angst. Y e s  
> Anyways, enjoy and thank you from your Friendly Frosty! <3


	5. Act 1 Intermission: Watching Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end for notes!

**_What_ ** _ do you think of the multiverse’s game? _

It was a strange question to anyone but Grian.

“Ray Bradbury said it best, I suppose. ‘It’s a pleasure to burn.’”

The Watcher stared at the endstone floor, their smiling theatre mask made of endstone and porcelain refusing to portray the celestial’s true emotions.

_ That I suppose it is. _

The hermit, clad in a cherry red jumper, smiled sadly, taking the violet caplet from around their shoulders and unclasping the brooch that held it in place.

“I can’t say I’m sorry for leaving.”

_ I did not expect you to. Not after all we have done. _

The celestial took the caplet out of Grian’s hands, wrapping it around their thin, crystalline arm as they turned to look at the hermit.

_ But...thank you for saying goodbye. If only to me. _

Grian nodded, “You and Everclear got the rest to calm down and negotiate with Xisuma. If I have anyone to thank, it’s you two.”

The second Watcher flew on tattered wings from their perch among the ruins, a flowing scarf of liquor wrapping around their neck and floating around their body. Unlike the first Watcher, their mask only covered their eyes; pieces of scrounged-up glass that were layered together without eyeholes.

_ I’m not going to forgive you for this. _

The first Watcher, far taller than the other as they stood on ribbon-bound stilts made of crystal, growled in warning.

_ We have done little for him. I am surprised he didn’t leave sooner. _

_ We talked with his stupid admin!  _

_ We were the ones who trapped him here in the first place! _

Everclear the Watcher bared its teeth and vicious claws of crystal and vines, crouched as though prepared to fight.

The other Watcher took an audible breath, turning back towards the hermit who stood guiltily between the two celestials.

“If I want the hermits to be safe,  _ you  _ to be safe, and myself to be safe, then I have to  _ go _ ,” Grian emphasized, and the first Watcher nodded.

_ Dream knows about The Void as it is tied directly to the Dreamworld. If we want  _ anyone  _ in this situation to make it out alive, then Grian must go, and go  _ alone.

_ That  _ doesn’t  _ make it fucking better, Speare! Why don’t we just kill the god--Jeb, one of the ironworkers in Pogtopia could do it. They and Xdee are part fae, they’d be killed at the very least or turned into demons where Piamon-Halo can deal with them-- _

NO _ , Everclear. That is my final answer. _

Speare the Watcher placed a spindly hand on the second Watcher’s shoulder.

_ Dream and Xdee are bound by their counterparts. There is nothing we can do unless you want to change the fate of an entire  _ world _. _

Everclear the Watcher was silent for a moment, silently seething by the way they worked their jaw, before finally sighing.

_ I hate this. I hate you. I just wanted to play a game. _

“Games have their prices,” Grian smiled.

Speare the Watcher knelt down on the endstone so that they were the same height as the hermit and the second Watcher.

_ And we will pay our price if you are willing to help Dream pay theirs.  _

Grian laughed bitterly, “I don’t think I really have a choice in the matter.”

The first Watcher tilted their head sheepishly.

_ No, I do not believe that any of us do. _

Everclear the Watcher grabbed the hermit in a hug, who quickly returned it as silent tears slipped down his face.

_ I’m sorry about what the rest of us did to you. I’m sorry about what we did to you, kid. _

“I love you, too, Everclear.”

Speare the Watcher wrapped their arms around the both of them.

_ Make us proud, little Hermit. _

The Watchers dissolved into dust in Grian’s arms as The Void melted into the Overworld. 

A sprawling mesa biome glowing in the soft light of the full moon. Dead bushes and sagebrush covered the floor, ensnaring scorpions and unfortunate rabbits. Zombies and husks stumbled around, searching with beady eyes for their next meal.

Grian sighed as he pulled up his communicator to text Xisuma.

_ I will, I promise. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))))))))
> 
> I"M SORRY I HAD TO MAKE SOME OF THEM SYMPATHETIICICICIIC I swear to you they're such a cool concept.
> 
> Watchers are Celestials that are basically the eldritch horror version of gods who live in The End/The Void, and those who deal with the Overworld and other dimensions and shit take on an alias (specifically name) and a couple traits from a certain concept or something from there.
> 
> Everclear, of course, was hard liquors after they drank one and immediately realized what being drunk when you're basically a god feels like.  
> Speare is the dramatics of theatre after they went and saw a lovely Shakespeare play, specifically Macbeth.
> 
> Those two are really the only mildly redeemable ones since they both actually care for Grian and the Evolutionists and the Hermits and people in general and also feel bad about kidnapping Grian in the first place. The others are...less than kind even if they have an Overworld Alias. 
> 
> Enjoy, love you, and thank you from your Friendly Frosty! <3


End file.
